The Marquis

I walked along the towpath to the Marquis of Granby

 

Pronouncing “w” and “s”

 

It always takes longer than I thought

 

A quick half can’t do much harm

 

And a motel room gets smaller as the hours wear on

 

Table service, on the terazza

 

Or beer garden

 

Such a palaver, I decided to buy in bulk

 

Ordered a pint and a packet of crisps

 

Reading Ann Charters’ “The Portable Beat Reader”, intro

 

Breeze cooling in the evening

 

Thoughts:

 

Family party, a birthday – it’s good to see people out

 

Reason led us to catastrophe: two world wars, the atom bomb

 

Slavery is alive and well, dressed up in entertainment

 

A system that survives on compensation – has COVID blown the scam?

 

Doubt it – not for long

 

They gave me a free pint: two and a half more than I’d planned

 

Will I make it back?

 

A heron crouches, Groucho-style

 

Narrowboat, green, lined-out in red, nudges to the lower lock

 

The sky, heavy, channelled, looks the way it must have done to bargees

 

Last light diffusing from behind the Pennines

 

All that’s missing: sulphurous haze, polio and TB, and sense of continuity

 

Commotion of bleak and minnows: a pike, perhaps, or perch

 

Maybe this place

 

One day